Regret (Ianthony)

Two Months, One Week Prior

Anthony knew that it was time. It had all led up to this moment in Smosh history, and it was about to happen. He was literally minutes away from the riskiest move he and Ian had ever pulled off in their career.

They were about to record the next Smosh video, and they were planning to kiss in the video.

Alright, so they would be kissing as different characters (in fact, Ian would be dressed up as a busty blonde woman), but still. Up to this point, they hadn't offered their fangirls any explicitly gay footholds (not any more than usual), so this would most likely cause a mini explosion on tumblr. Anthony had actually had half a mind to email a tumblr administrator in apologies, but the gesture seemed quite ridiculous, no matter how courteous.

Ian had actually requested that he and Anthony be alone for the particular scene, and that the director and staff offer some privacy and just leave a camera rolling, but since that would call for unnecessary editing, Anthony had called it off, telling Ian that they would be fine. It wasn't even the fact that they were kissing; it was that there would be people watching, observing the situation. Anthony had been a pretty shy kid as a child and still hadn't completely shed that trait completely, although he had gotten over it for the most part. This would be pretty scary.

However, he now considered himself an ally of fear itself after the past months of terror. Biting fish, sharks, Ian poking at him to take up crazy bets... Even though it wore on him and succeeded on making him more weary of some things, it also reduced his fear of trying new things. Now, he felt like he could take on any challenge with little difficulty. Okay, so it wasn't that easy, but still... He knew that he could do it, and would manage with little to no problem. It would be alright when it was over.

"Anthony, c'mon!" Ian yelled, yanking Anthony from his thoughts roughly. He rubbed the back of his head, knowing what harsh reality was awaiting him.

Real life was a fucking asshole.

He followed Ian somewhat hesitantly, trying to force himself to comprehend that, yes, he had dragged himself into this one, it was his own fault, Ian was not to blame this time around the track...  They stepped up onto the set and into the scenery, which was designed to resemble a diner. There were extras sitting in small two-person tables and waiting for Anthony and Ian to be seated at the table in the center of the scene. Ian sat, leaving Anthony to stand.

"Action!" the director yelled, slamming his wooden movie set thing that Anthony didn't know what to call worth a shit down on itself and sitting quietly on his small collapsible metal chair, watching the scene unfold before him. Ian had guaranteed that it would only take one reel, and he was determined to hold him to his word, looking for any slip-ups.

Wracking his brain for the words to say that had been on his script (which he had stared at for three hours the previous day), Anthony enunciated with a thick Italian accent through his stick-on mustache while moving his hands in wild accompanying gestures, "Darling, sit your little booty in the little restaurant chair while I call the waiter's attention."

"I'm already sitting, dumbass," Ian retorted with a valley girl's nasal dialect on his tongue. His bleached-blonde wig was straight and he was wearing a ridiculously emphasized amount of makeup (particularly mascara and cherry red lipstick) that clashed with his emerald long-sleeved shirt with ornate cuffs. His fake boobs (which were created using tissues stuffed into a bra) were being held in place by the sheer tightness of the shirt. Although not visible, Anthony knew that Ian was wearing a black mini-skirt and tights in high-heels. After all, he had designed the outfit.

He knew that Ian was probably scrutinizing him with the same intensity. He sported a white polo shirt, slicked-back hair, his obviously-artificial mustache, and cheesy black dress pants. His black shoes glinted in the dim lighting, and he tried his hardest to resist clicking his heels and bantering, "There's no place like home!"

"SERVICE!!! I NEED SERVICE!!" Anthony bellowed, pretending not to hear his "girlfriend's" words. The words were rolling out of his lips without much difficulty. This was easier than he had expected...

As soon as his shouts resonated around the diner and a few extras paused in their muted conversations to turn and look at the interrupter of silence, a frowning waitress dragged herself out from within the depths of the "kitchen" (which was really an old storage closet). Her dyed crimson mane of hair and facial piercings automatically evoked stereotypes from the nonexistent audience, which was exactly what the two had been going for when they had written the script.

"What can I get you?" she drawled tiredly, and Anthony bit back a rising laugh. She was actually a very good friend of Ian and his named Angela, and her acting was impeccable. She was normally pretty cheery, but her portrayal of a depressed emo chick conflicted with her natural persona. It was quite funny; almost as funny as Anthony's mustache and Ian's boobs.

Ian opened his mouth to speak, but Anthony cut "her" off, "My lady friend would like the slab of meat with the most disgusting amount of the carbohydrates. I would like the leaves arranged with little tomatoes and various sauces." Angela nodded slowly, withdrawing a pad of paper and a pen from her apron and scribbling the orders down.

"Oh, you always know what I want, dear!" Ian preened, staring at Anthony with goo-goo eyes as Angela trudged off, not even bothering to offer them beverages (all part of the script, of course). Then, as soon as Angela stumbled back into the fake kitchen door, Ian snarled, "She was totally checking you out! You're not in love with her, are you?" The fake lovestruck sadness in Ian's eyes was quite admirable; he was playing the part exactly as planned.

"Never, sweetycheeks. My love for you is like the most explosive of farts; I cannot conceal it any longer. Let us show the food lady our passion," Anthony recited, leaning across the table to kiss Ian. Their lips connected in unison, and pleasant fiery tingles instantly engulfed Anthony's body. However, they refrained from any further movement; they couldn't risk getting carried away in the middle of a video shoot.

Anthony heard the kitchen door swing open to reveal Angela, who observed the kissing scene with broken eyes. "Dammit, I thought I love him! Now the depression will eat my soul alive!" she bellowed mournfully, anguish apparent in her expression.

"Cut! That's a wrap, fellows!" the director announced, eliciting a few sighs of approval before the crew began dispersing. Anthony and Ian separated, grinning at each other triumphantly.

"The Adventures of Emo Chick is gonna be so popular on YouTube," Anthony stated, knowing that this video would be a complete success. They had already filmed the rest of the scenes, which was a relief. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and he was already feeling light as a feather.

Ian only laughed. "That's what you're happy about? I'll be on tumblr all night, baby!"